


Rough Around The Edges

by Kaiisan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, CEO!Lance, Kinda, M/M, One Shot, Pining Lance (Voltron), Random & Short, Romance, Short, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), busker!keith, honestly shes basically running it, jk hes a good boss he just hates paperwork and meetings, lance just inherited it and ran away from his responsibilities half the time, music label owner Lance, poor!Keith, sister Allura, vice president of the company Allura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 22:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11632812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiisan/pseuds/Kaiisan
Summary: Lance goes talent scouting at a place popular for busking and finds a real gem.





	Rough Around The Edges

**Author's Note:**

  * For [breakzz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakzz/gifts).



> For my friend Breakzz~

Lance has a favourite spot where he likes to spend his lunch breaks.

It's a square just down the road from where he works, and always bustling with people. It's almost a carnival, really, in the sense that there are always all sorts of entertainment popping up on a daily basis, from stalls of clothes and jewellery, to miniature stages and performers. Buskers perform regularly on the small stages built into the grounds dotted around the square, spaced far enough away from each other to not clash multiple performances, but close enough to walk in between them and listen to them as you shop. Lance has a good view of all of the stages where he sits sipping his coffee, and though there are new faces amongst the buskers he could be listening to, it's one familiar face that has his attention like a moth to a flame.

The man has long, messy black hair that's tied haphazardly off his neck in a twisted ponytail, and his clothes are old and worn. Black finger-less gloves pluck the strings of his guitar --his pride and joy if the way he cradles it gently is anything to go by, Lance thinks-- and his body language is calm, unfazed by the crowd that watches him with mild interest.

He always has a small group watching him, Lance notices, and that's what drew him in in the first place. His style of music isn't a popular genre either, it's heavy and slow, with the lyrics almost forced from his lips reluctantly. The passion is there though; the brunet can see it in the pinch of his brow and the way he pushes the air from his lungs to sing deeply, loudly, intensely, all while feigning nonchalance. He sings from the heart: songs about being hurt, feeling low, about getting to your feet again after being knocked down.

Other buskers come and go. They sing cheerful tunes, popular pop songs that have the teenage girls giggle and take pictures of them, and still this lone grunge guitarist sings his acoustic rock songs about love that hurts and keeping strong.

He knows, as his lunch hour finishes, that the busker will still be in his spot until late in the evening, and he'll be back the following day too. And the day after, and the day after. The thought makes his stomach flutter with excitement.

 

* * *

 

Sure enough, the mysterious busker is there the following morning, setting up his things as Lance walks up to the bakery to get some coffee and a pastry. Thinking on his feet, he buys another coffee, with sugar packets and creamer cups, as well as a bottle of water and a couple plain croissants. He takes his purchases out with him and approaches the busker. He waits until he has his attention before he holds his stuff out for him.

"Here, do you drink coffee?"

The inky-haired man eyes him suspiciously. Lance keeps his smile bright and sunny.

"What do you want?"

Lance blinks. "To... buy you a warm drink? Since it's kinda chilly?"

The other man grabs the drink from his outstretched hand slowly, eyeing the sugar and creamers in the little cup holder next to it.

"And these too!" Lance holds up one of the other bags. "It's water and some croissants."

"Why the fuck are you doing this for me?" He snaps, glaring. "I don't even know who you are!" His eyes narrow and scan him bodily, up and down. "Should I know you?"

"No, no, we haven't talked before." Lance admits, holding his hands up innocently, careful not to spill his own drink. "But I've watched you perform during my lunch breaks sometimes, I'm kinda a big fan."

The guitarist blinks at that, surprised. "I... oh. Thank you...?"

Lance smiles at him again. "Name's Lance."

Guitar-man shrugs back at him. "Keith."

"Well, Keith, you want these or not? They're getting cold."

"I--you know what, yes, please." He snatches the bag from Lance with a lot more ease than he did with the coffee. He sets everything on the small stage floor as he sits down, digging in quickly with a hunger that Lance recognises as 'not having eaten yet today'. He says nothing, respectful enough to mind his own business, and sits down next to him. Keith eyes the business suit he's wearing, getting dirty on the floor next to him.

"Shouldn't you be at... wherever you work?"

"Yes." Lance beams a smile at him innocently.

Keith raises a brow, then snorts. "You're a fucking weirdo."

Lance shrugs back at him, grinning, but doesn't deny it.

They eat in silence, Keith careful not to rush his chewing and eat slowly, and Lance side-eyeing the scruffier man beside him inconspicuously.

"Where'd you learn to play?" he asks curiously.

Keith waits until he's done chewing to reply. "Brother taught me before he joined the military."

There's a finality there that warns not to pry further, so Lance nods. He's done with his food, and he's very late for his first meeting of the day, but what's the point of being the CEO of your own business if you can't sit and eat baked goods with hot, ragged singers instead of attending a stuffy meeting with boring people?

"Welp, I'll see you later then." Lance sighs, getting up. "Duty calls."

Keith huffs, glaring at the ground. "I'll be here." he replies sarcastically. "Where I always am."

Lance grins at him. "I know, I'm counting on that. Seeya at lunch!"

If he happens to leave his other puff pastries there accidentally-on-purpose, then he's sure Keith doesn't mind.

 

* * *

 

Sure enough, Keith is where he left him earlier when comes back at lunch. Lance is a little later than usual, thanks to the earful he got from his vice president Allura. He grabs another coffee, from a cafe this time, as well as some sandwiches and a sweet treat. He makes to sure to sit somewhere that Keith will see him from if he looks around, though he hopes he's not too obvious about his interest.

He recognises a few of the songs Keith plays as he eats his lunch, classic acoustic covers of "Save Me" and "Simple Man" by Shinedown, "Stay with Me" by You Me At Six, some angstier songs by Sixx A.M., too. Lance can barely stop himself from grinning widely as Keith catches his eye, and starts to rile the growing crowd up with his cover of The Reckless and The Brave by All Time Low. It fits him, Lance thinks, to be an image of rebellion against society.

It's this song that makes Lance really look at him, and he sees it. Sees the ambition, the talent, the desire to be better. The desire to be on stage, to get his heart and soul out there for all to see. He sees the fire in the busker's eyes and the crowd can feel it too; more and more people are being drawn in as he puts more power into his voice. It's... thrilling. Lance feels the goosebumps rise along his arms and neck and shivers.

This. This is what he wants. This potential.

By the time his lunch hour is over, Keith's usual crowd disperses a little as he cools down, chugging water from the bottle Lance had bought him earlier. Lance sidles up to him slowly, a Cheshire grin plastered on his face. Keith eyes him, a little surprised but maybe a little happy too.

"Hey Rockstar," Lance wiggles his eyebrows at him. "Lookin' good out there, as usual."

Keith rolls his eyes at him.

"I've been watching you for a while." Lance begins, keeping his grin steady as he fiddles with his hands behind his back. "And I think you're pretty cute. Pretty talented too. So I figured you deserved something like this."

He reaches a hand forward to Keith's guitar case, where it lay open with some change already piled up, and drops in a small wad of fifty dollar bills. Nestled on top of the wad and beneath the rubber band, lies Lance's business card and personal number scrawled on top of it.

Keith stares at the money in shock, lifting it up to inspect with shaking hands. He pulls out the card, reading the name of Lance's music label under his breath, before glancing up at him in disbelief.

"Fuck off. No way."

"Yeah way, baby!" Lance laughs, warmth rushing through his body at the excitement building on Keith's face. "You are something special, dude."

"Fuck off. This isn't real. There's no way this is real."

"I mean, the building's right over there, I can walk ya to it." Lance chuckles. When Keith stares at him incredulously, he adds, "What? You didn't think people busked here 'cause it's pretty, did ya? A whole lot of my company come out here and look out for potential new stars. We're the ones that set up these stages!"

"Goddamn."

"Yeah, goddamn. And you've been here every day for like, the past five months. I've been watching you." Lance smiles at him softly. "You're a talented one, Keith. You wanna do something with that talent at my company?"

"I..." Keith trails off, looking down. "I don't think I'm that good, honestly."

Lance huffs, a little disappointed.

"Well, I'm free for the next three mornings until eleven, and I'll let the front desk know who you are if you show up. I'm serious about signing you on, but only if you're interested." Lance sighs, frowning. "I'm not gonna force ya. But I like you, and know you've got what it takes. Plus maybe I like you little more than for business reasons. I don't give out my personal number to just anyone, yaknow?"

Keith stares down at the card, quiet.

"So if you want the job, I'll be seeing you soon. If you want dinner and a movie, you know who to text. I'll be happy with either choice you make, or even both! But it's up to you, in the end. Keep the cash, buddy. See ya around."

Lance doesn't get a text from him that night.

 

* * *

 

Allura keeps an eye on him all morning, watching his pout deepen as he stares out the window of his office. It's not truly an office, per se, since it's designed more like a nightclub's lounge room, with long, deep sofas and dark furniture and wallpaper. If it weren't for the fact that sunlight streamed into the room from floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall the room's atmosphere might've been dark and brooding, much like it's occupant.

Lance has his headphones in, staring out along the skyline as he stretches across one of the plush sofas. Its a deep maroon colour, and very soft. To the untrained eye, it looks like he's slacking off, however he's listening to the new tracks some of his contracts have made, going over them for quality and error checks. By the time they reach him they're usually near-perfect, but Lance's hearing is matched by no-one, and he can find faults where others might miss them.

So far, every one of these songs seem to miss something.

"Are you sure you're not just pouting because your busking boy didn't accept your offer?" Allura teases, sitting down near Lance's head to pet his hair.

"No!" Lance insists, lower lip jutting out further. He resists the urge to cross his arms.

"I can't believe you cleared all your whole morning appointments _three days in a row_ , in the hopes that he'd turn up." Allura murmurs at him, checking the time on her watch. It's already the third day, after all. Lance checks it on his phone: 10:53am. Keith probably isn't going to show up.

"He's good, Allura. Really good." Lance whines. "The best raw talent I've seen in _years_. Imagine what he'd be like with a bit of vocal training? I'll faint."

"Please don't do that until I'm actually signed on with you."

Lance sits up so fast he nearly headbutts Allura in the nose.

"Keith!"

"I--uh," Keith startles at Lance's enthusiasm, and looks over his lack of business suit apparel. Lance only wears them to meetings; right now he was wearing tight jeans and a ripped Avenged Sevenfold tee, as well as all the piercings he usually has to take out. Keith clears his throat and starts over. "I don't have a phone, so I couldn't text. And I uh-- ran out of money for the bus to get to the square." Keith glances down, as if ashamed.

"What about what I gave you?" Lance frowns anxiously.

"Went towards the rent I pay with my brother." Keith replies quickly. "He works full time even though he's a veteran and got hurt during his tour. I try and get jobs but no-one's ever hiring... so I go out here, where no-one knows me, and just try my best." He kicks the floor.

"But you made it." Lance breathes out in awe. The feelings that bloom in his chest for the man in front of him fill his lungs, like he was drowning in butterflies and flower petals.

Keith nods at him, shyly.

"I'd like that job please. And maybe that date too, if you'll have me."

"Oh, fuck yes!" Lance shouts out loudly, jumping forward and embracing Keith in a tight hug. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! I knew it, I knew you'd be the one." Lance murmurs, leaning back to bump his head to Keith's. "My diamond in the rough."

"That's... really cheesy."

Allura calls out from behind them: "Get a room! Actually, sign our contract first and _then_ get a room!"

"How about _you_ leave the room to get a copy of the contract, and then take the long way back as slowly as possible?" Lance replies cheekily, making Keith snort. Allura rolls her eyes, punching his arm harshly as she walks past them and out of the room.

Once alone, Lance leans in and kisses the smile from Keith's lips.

 

**Author's Note:**

> check out my other stuff if you like this, and pls leave a comment~


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